Technical Difficulties
by jgracetheauthor
Summary: The notorious events of Stardate 6062.4 again, this time from Uhura's perspective. Sometimes it's great to be the communications officer - you always know what's going on. But sometimes it's hard to be the communications officer - you always know what's going on.


Technical Difficulties

or

A Day in the Life of a Communications Officer

"Uhura, patch in a haling frequency, I need to make emergency contact with Starfleet."

"Aye, sir."

Uhura obeyed quickly and skillfully, as always. "Ready, sir. Shall I…"

"No," he insisted, anticipating her question. "I think I ought to speak with them myself."

The Captain cleared his throat and spoke. "Starfleet command, this is Captain Kirk. We have lost access to the destruction probe's coordinates, and are no longer tracking it on our monitors. Has there been a change in the state of things?"

There was a silence, during which Uhura twirled a strand of her short, dark hair around her finger nervously. She probably had more knowledge of the situation than any other crew member except the Captain, and perhaps Mr. Spock. Sometimes it was a good thing to be the communications officer; she was always aware of what was going on. Then again, sometimes it was a bad thing to be a communications officer - she was always aware of what was going on.

"Uhura, is there…" Before he could finish his question, a faint voice buzzed over the speakers.

"Captain Kirk, we have a situation. The probe is in sun-synchronous orbit now, and has just transmitted its intent to terminate in forty-eight hours."

"Terminate vhat?" asked Ensign Chekov naively.

Uhura shot an irritated glance at him. Even he ought to know better than to ask a question like that at a time like this. Not that he could be expected to know what she knew - that the probe was going to destroy earth for an un-communicated reason. But he _should_ know that it wasn't a good idea to ask questions when the Captain was in the middle of a tense communication with life-or-death consequences.

"Your head, Pavel Chekov, if you don't keep your mouth shut!" was the reply, which was about what she had expected.

Chekov slunk back in his seat, almost whimpering. Uhura sighed, relenting a little. She felt sorry for the little fellow sometimes - relatively new on the crew, shy, and sadly prone to make mistakes. Repenting of her irritation, she gave him a reassuring smile, which didn't seem to make him feel much better. "Excuse me, Captain," he muttered, and stumbled off the bridge miserably.

Kirk ignored the exit, and went on speaking. "Orders, Starfleet?"

There was a long pause, with much static, before the voice came again. "Captain Kirk, come to earth immediately and attempt to destroy the probe. Our observations reveal that a precise hit by photon torpedoes directly in the center of the aft thruster will destruct it. _Enterprise _is the only ship in the quadrant that has sufficient fire-power to…"

As the voice began fading off, Uhura frantically worked her console. "Captain, transmission jammed at the source, sir. Interference of tremendous power from an unknown signal."

There was a serious silence, which was broken a moment later by Chekov's re-entry. Looking sheepish and a bit flustered, he hurried back to his seat. Uhura sympathized with him - no one liked to be yelled at by the Captain, especially not sensitive Chekov, who worshiped Captain Kirk with child-like devotion.

But nobody besides herself took any notice of him as he hurried to his console and went back to work.

"Warp one, Mr. Sulu," the Captain finally ordered, and Sulu obediently worked the ship forward.

Pressing his finger on the communicator button on his chair, Kirk asked authoritatively, "Do we have full warp capacities, Mr. Scott?"

Scotty's distinctive voice answered unhesitatingly. "Aye sir."

Turning back to the helm, Kirk ordered, "Warp seven, Mr. Sulu. We need as much speed as we can safely get."

"Aye, Captain."

Uhura settled back in her chair, hoping fervently that they would arrive in time to save earth. Yes, the _Enterprise_ had saved many planets from many devastations, but this, somehow, was different. This was earth, and this was complete annihilation. All that stood between that lovely, green world - home - and planetary apocalypse, was the _USS Enterprise_ and her crew.

She thought she had a good reason to be nervous.

On they sped, and Kirk had little for her to do for the present. She would have relished some work at the moment, that way she wouldn't just have to sit there picking at her nails and worrying.

A diversion soon presented itself in the form of a jolt that sent her flying out of her chair and landed her flat on her face on the hard, metal deck of the bridge. Stunned, she glanced at the viewscreen from where she lay. What had they bumped into this time?

The other members of the crew were picking themselves up, and she watched Captain Kirk stand up and clutch his chair, at the same time punching the transmission button. "Scotty, what in the name of Andromeda is going on down there?" he thundered, tension in his voice.

She didn't blame him. Getting up and pushing herself back into her chair, she found her mind echoing his question. An answer came moments later in a thick, Scottish accent.

"It's the inertial dampeners, sir. Looks like they're nonfunctional."

Kirk looked almost relieved. Uhura didn't feel very comforted, herself. Was that an easy problem to fix, or was it likely to hinder them?

"Oh, well, do your best to get them up and running again, Mr. Scott. In the meantime, I'll try not to jerk her around too much."

"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best."

With a slight, familiar twinkle in his eye, Kirk called back, "I may just need you to do better than your best, Mr. Scott. We need those dampeners."

He loved teasing Scotty, Uhura reminded herself. Why else would he say something that was so clearly irritating? She personally thought he would do better to stick to the problems at hand, namely the destruction of his home planet. But then, he was the Captain, she was not.

Sitting in his chair again, he ordered, "Full speed ahead, Mr. Sulu, and do your best to keep a steady course."

"Aye sir."

This made Uhura nervous, and she clutched the sides of her chair for good measure. It turned out that this was a wise precaution, for not ten minutes later the ship shook violently again, and many of the less sensible crew members were again thrown to the floor, including Mr. Chekov, who tumbled up against the rail and got a black eye for his carelessness.

Scotty's voice sounded again. "Sir, I'll need to readjust the engines to compensate for the inertial impacts of motion at warp speed…"

But then his voice was interrupted by another one, an angry one, one that belonged, clearly, to Doctor McCoy. "Jim, what do you think you're doing up there? You're injuring and re-injuring these poor people just as fast as I can heal them."

Looking slightly irritated, Kirk replied, "It's not my fault. The inertial dampeners are non-functional, so every motion of the ship is going to be felt a little more than usual."

"A little more than usual?" Uhura was quite sure she detected a hint of sarcasm in Doctor McCoy's voice.

"We can't avoid it until Mr. Scott readjusts the engines to compensate for the inertial impacts of motion at warp speed…"

"Doggone it Jim, I'm a doctor, not an astrophysicist. Tell Scotty to hurry up, we've got people trying to work down here."

"I'll try to be careful. Switch frequencies back to engineering, Uhura," the Captain ordered, and she jumped to do it.

"Well, you heard the man, Scotty. Get to work at once," was Kirk's authoritative command.

"Aye, sir."

Pulling his finger off the button, Kirk turned impatiently to Uhura. "Please, if the Doctor tries to come on line again, I'd appreciate it if you'd block him, or at least keep him off the speakers."

"Yes sir."

Running his fingers through his hair, the Captain sat down once again, and Uhura thought he sat a little too casually. If the ship jolted again, he was sure to fall down again.

Moments later, the ship _did_ jolt again, and sure enough, the Captain, along with Chekov, and a few other crewmen flew out of their seats. She winced inwardly as the Captain's head came down on the corner of the console, and his wrist jammed on the deck underneath. He was in an even worse mood when he got up again.

"Jim!" came the Doctor's voice over her headset.

"Doctor McCoy again," she announced, somewhat warily.

Growling slightly, the Captain sat hard in his chair and pressed his finger equally hard to the button. "Sorry, Bones."

"Sorry! Tell that to the broken-armed man who just fell down and probably now has increased upper-arm muscle damage to boot!"

"We're doing the very best we can, Bones, now calm yourself and get back to work."

Uhura looked admiringly at the Captain. Especially considering the urgency of their mission and the growing bump on his forehead, he was behaving remarkably calmly. She had felt sure that he would yell at the Doctor, but his voice was steady, if slightly weak.

"Captain," Sulu ventured, "may I suggest that you head to sick bay yourself? You have a bump on your head the size of a phaser."

"I most certainly can not," said the Captain slightly testily. "I have a job to do, and I intend to do it. Continue ahead, Mr. Sulu."

There was a silence, and Sulu kept on. Uhura thought over the situation worriedly. If they didn't get to the probe in time, all life on earth was going to be destroyed. Yet if they continued on - people were getting hurt, Doctor McCoy said, people might even be dying. Now, if she were the captain, she thought, she would ask Scotty how long repairs might take if they stopped. If they wouldn't take too long, it might be wise to…

A heaving jolt knocked her head against the back of her chair, and she grasped whatever was within reach to keep herself from being knocked around too much. Chekov once again slid from his chair and his head cracked against the floor so loudly, that she was seriously worried.

Other crewmen were rolling around the deck, and everything was utter chaos for several seconds before the ship finally steadied itself again.

"Chekov?" she cried, rushing first thing to the ensign's side. "Captain, I'm afraid he's seriously hurt."

"He'll be alright," said the Captain hurriedly, then went back to yelling orders frantically.

Uhura wasn't so sure about that. "Chekov?" she said again. "Pavel?"

There was no response from the Russian man, not so much as a groan. She felt the back of his head anxiously. "Captain I think we ought to get the medics up here…"

"Uhura, can't you see that I'm busy? None can be spared, and I have work to do."

Leaning over the unconscious man once again, she felt his wrist for a pulse. How could she get him down to sick bay? He was small, but she still couldn't carry him, not by herself.

She glanced over at Sulu pleadingly. He was Chekov's best friend, wouldn't he do something about this?

Sulu was already looking down at them, his face a puzzle of indecision. He had a job to do, but, if Chekov was seriously hurt…

A voice came again through the speakers, and Uhura realized, cringing, that it was Doctor McCoy. She'd forgotten to take him off of speakers.

"James Kirk, you stop that this instant! Do you have the slightest idea what's going _on_ down here?"

"Doctor, you have to understand…"

Not waiting to hear what the doctor must understand, Sulu jumped down to where Chekov lay and helped Uhura lift him. The Captain didn't take any notice of them; he was leaning back in his chair looking a bit pale as he listened to the doctor's demands.

"I understand that either you're going to get those inertial dampeners working this instant, or you're going to stop this ship at once and not start again until they _are_ working."

"What is this, mutiny, Doctor McCoy?"

The bridge doors opened as the two of them, helmsman and communications officer, carried the poor navigator off the bridge, and then the doors closed. They didn't hear whether or not it was mutiny.

"You think he's okay?" asked Uhura anxiously as they made their way down to sick bay.

Sulu shook his head. "I hope so."

There were no empty beds when they reached sick bay, so with the help of a nurse, they laid him down on a makeshift cot. While Sulu stood near to comfort Chekov in case he woke up, Uhura hurried up to Doctor McCoy and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned on her so fiercely that she was startled.

"What do you want?"

"Doctor, Mr. Chekov is hurt, I'm afraid it may be very bad."

"I'll get to him in good time, can't you see I have enough work to do here?" he positively growled. "Now don't pester me, I have a lot of work to do and not much time to do it in."

Taken aback by his callous response, she backed off and hurried back to where Chekov still lay unconscious.

But moments later the doctor proved that his bark was worse than his bite by rushing over with his favorite medical scanner in his hand. "Well, what happened to him?" he asked sulkily, moving the scanner skillfully over the man's head.

"He fell down, and hit his head on the deck - I swear, Doctor McCoy, it was so loud I thought his head might have cracked open. And then I couldn't feel his pulse…"

"A pulse can be difficult to feel in times of stress, everybody knows that," he grumped. "He has a mild concussion, that's all. Should be over it soon. Now, if you don't mind, I have people to take care of." He forced open Chekov's mouth and shoved something in, then rushed away.

"Are you going to wait with him?" Sulu asked.

Uhura nodded. "I expect the Captain needs you."

"I expect so." Standing up and squeezing her hand reassuringly, Sulu left the room, and she sat in his vacated chair to wait.

She only had to wait about five minutes before Chekov's eyelids fluttered open. His brown eyes were confused for a moment as he looked around, then he saw her sitting there and seemed to remember. Feeling the back of his head, he winced. "Vhat happened?"

"You hit your head," she recounted. "Mr. Sulu and I carried you down here."

"Is it bad?"

"Doctor McCoy says that you have a concussion, but not a bad one. He said it will heal soon." Brushing her hand over his kindly, she asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

Rather than answering, he murmured, "Serves me right."

"What do you mean?"

As if he'd said something he didn't intend, he flushed slightly. "I - I just mean interrupting the Captain the vay I did."

"Well, you live and learn," was all she could think of to say to this.

"I suppose so," was his weak answer. "Thank you wery much for bringing me down here. It vas wery kind of you."

"What are friends for?" she smiled. Then, "I really ought to be getting back to the bridge, Captain Kirk may need me."

"Of course."

"Get some rest," was the last thing she said before standing up and leaving.

When she got back up to the bridge, the Captain asked irritably, "Uhura, would you please get back to your duties, or is everyone against me today?"

Instead of answering, she slid back into her chair. "Yes, Captain?"

"Get me sick bay."

She obeyed, and then he spoke through the communicator, "The dampeners are repaired, do I have your permission to go again, Doctor?"

There was a pause, then the voice of a female nurse responded, "He says yes."

Uhura couldn't help wondering if the doctor had said something a bit less mild than simply "yes."

"Warp eight, Mr. Sulu," the Captain ordered quickly, "and let's see if we can reach that probe in time!"

As they headed off again, Uhura's nervousness returned, and she began feeling exactly the same as she had before the whole inertial dampeners incident. It was almost as if that had just been a strange dream - except the absence of Chekov and the soreness of her head where she'd hit it proved otherwise, as did the growing bump on the Captain's brow.

Something buzzed through her headset just then, and she announced, "Commander of Starfleet on emergency channel, asking for a report on our progress, sir."

"On speakers."

She obeyed, and the voice asked, "Repeat, what is your current ETA? The probe is still orbiting."

"Current ETA is 0700 hours. I apologize for the delay. We've been experiencing - technical difficulties. Will make best time possible and follow orders when we arrive, Kirk out."

Uhura couldn't help a wry smile at the term "technical difficulties." That was putting it mildly.

She only hoped that after all that, they'd reach the probe in time.


End file.
